


Down the River

by MooseMan



Series: Haunted House [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempt at being realistic, Gay cop, Ghosts, Murder, Original Fiction, School Project, Slow To Update, and I will spray you with water, if you ship these kids you're an absolute scrub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23830381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseMan/pseuds/MooseMan
Summary: Finn killed his best friend.Friend was a loose term, though. He hated that guy. Now he has to deal with his own paranoia, and the threat of being arrested. He knows they'll find out eventually, so why not go out in a blaze of glory?Oliver was killed by his best friend.He didn't know why it happened, or why this mysterious girl was sticking with him, but he's going to get Finn arrested. Maybe then he'll be able to move on.Hey, this is something I'm currently writing for school. I just want to see what other people think since I can get more feedback this way.Update: I am no longer in the class this is for, I've moved up a year. But I still want to work on it so y'all can expect more. Currently editing existing chapters
Relationships: Cheese (Cat), Michelle Morton/Marvin Morton (Married), Oliver & Finn, Oliver & Nicole
Series: Haunted House [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717267
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. To start somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small TW for self harm and school shooting mention. 
> 
> Oh yeah boys we getting some setting and establishing character.

There’s something inherently calming about nature for some people. For some, it’s the setting itself, the cool breeze rushing past one’s cheeks, the distant call of a bird. For others, it’s the stillness that isn’t present in most everyday life. And for some, it was the animals, going about their day like there was nothing out there beyond their little corner of the world. But for Finn Owens, it was the sheer simplicity of it all. The animals and plants didn’t have any other motives other than to live, yet they had infinitely complex ways of doing that. The spider slowly spun its web in the early morning, waiting patiently for it to snare an unsuspecting insect. The crow seeking out sticks to use as tools. He relished in watching these beings function, as it took him away from the society burning behind him. 

Finn had never really been good with other human beings. They sent confusing signals and didn’t have patterns he could follow. He’d never managed to get it right, no matter how hard he tried. Like now, standing in the stuffy halls of Tilton Middle School as Jackson Lloyd laughed in his face. He was quietly longing to be back in the woods behind his house, away from the piercing stares of his fellow classmates. 

“Look at him! He’s thinking about it as we speak.” Jack jeered at him, throwing his head back in a laugh of pure spite. Finn had made the mistake of lingering in the hallway too long and was being told for the third time this week that he would shoot up the school. At this point, it really did seem like a viable option. “So where’s the gun, creep?” He towered over Finn, arms crossed as he grinned. His little posse of two chuckled behind him. The hallway continued to bustle around them, unlike in the movies where everyone stopped and stared. Sure, a few were watching, it was something to break up the dull routine of the school day, but since there was no physical altercation and no one was yelling, they mostly just cared about going to class. 

“So, what day do I need to skip school?” He pressed his hand to the locker and leaned over him. Up close, Finn could see every pock mark and pimple on Jackson’s sweaty forehead. He really was a disgusting creature. “And hey, while you’re at it, maybe take out a few people for me, hm?” Jackson looked up as the bell rang and crinkled his nose, “I’ll see you after class, terrorist.” He turned and shuffled off, his two ‘goons’ behind him. Those two never really did anything, other than keep smaller victims from getting away when they tried to run. Finn wasn’t even sure he knew their names. 

He showed up to class a minute and twelve seconds late, as marked by his wrist watch. The teacher didn’t seem to mind though, her back was turned and everyone was chatting amongst themselves. He picked his way through the maze of book bags and legs to his seat in the back. It was a cozy little corner, nestled up right next to the bookshelf and under the white board. A few spiders had made their homes in the little space between the wall and the bookshelf, and quite a few layers of dust coated everything, except for small swipes and prints where bored students messed with the thin coating of particles. He set his bag under the table, leaning back in the hard plastic chair and sighing. The noise of the classroom washed over him, conversations crowding the air and running into each other, filling his brain with noise.

A single word cut through that noise, at least for him, since the person speaking was directly in front of- and speaking to- him. “Finn!” A figure now sat in the seat in front of him, bright green eyes meeting his dull grey ones. 

“Hello Oliver.” Oliver beamed up to him. He wasn’t a particularly interesting looking boy, with ruffled chestnut brown hair and loose clothes in an array of vibrant colours. His southern accent was noticeably heavier than most of the class. But his eyes… Finn was pulled abruptly from his thoughts as Oliver tapped his forearm with some hesitation. 

“You’re uh, doing the thing again.” He moved his arm back from his touch, humming slightly in acknowledgement. 

“Right.” The teacher had turned back around now, passing some paper around the room. Finn scanned around for a long moment before turning his attention back to his… well, he might as well call Oliver a friend, they’d known each other long enough. Seven years is long enough, right? But people usually like their friends, and Finn clearly didn’t like Oliver- never had- but he stuck around. He watched as Oliver maneuvered himself back around to face the front.

Almost as soon as the worksheet hit the desk, he was back in his head again, hands moving automatically to complete the work. What had he been thinking about exactly? Eyes… eyes… right, Oliver’s eyes. If Finn actually cared, he would have thought it rather strange that he was thinking about eyes, specifically Olivers, but he did this every day. He was always reminded how much he hated Oliver, how many years he’d put up with this (and if he was feeling spicy, wondering how much longer he’d have to put up with it), but then reminding himself that it wasn’t all bad. His eyes showed more emotion in a single moment than Finn could muster in a day. It was genuinely fascinating. Some might say it would be absolutely bonkers to stay with someone just because they like their eyes, but even if Finn wasn’t interested, he doubted Oliver would have left. He seemed to cling to him like a parasite, sucking away any desire to actually try and be a social, functioning human. So he tried to find the positives where he could.

Finn tapped his pencil on the desk, staring blankly at the page in front of him. Oliver was going on in front of him about one thing or another, the rest of the noise in the classroom forming an itch in the back of his head that he just couldn’t scratch. He almost groaned aloud when Oliver put his hands on the desk and leaned over. “What’d you get for number five?” 

“I’m not telling you.”

Finn pushed him back, only to have him pop back up. “Are you alright?” Oliver seemed to finally get it when he didn’t get a response. “...Right, sorry.” He turned back to the front. These were the times when Finn felt a tiny trickle of guilt tighten around his stomach, making it impossible to sit  _ just  _ right. But of course, he never voiced this. He didn’t voice a lot of things, like how he didn’t really feel much anymore emotion wise. Or how he found no one romantically attractive, or how he sometimes hurt himself, just for fun. The fresh cuts on his legs pulsed gently at this thought, making him shudder. 

It was around this time that Finn slipped down into this state of half awareness. In the moment, his body knew what it was doing, but as soon as the moment passed, he would forget that anything ever happened. 


	2. Another point of view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make plans. We're getting to the death, just give it like two more chapters

Oliver did what he did every day, he went through the motions. It was hard not to when everything was almost the exact same every day. But there was something to look forward to today. His uncle had told him that he could ride the boat home if he got there fast enough. 

“C’mon! We have to hurry!” He pushed against Finn’s back, urgency weaving into his tone as he dug his heels into the ground. The body in front of him began to move, the legs working faster as if he’d been sleeping standing up and had just woken. Then, they were both sprinting. 

Oliver hopped left and ran ahead, unable to contain his excitement any longer. Bags swung in unison, bruising their sides and jabbing at their backs. Long thin grass clung to their pant legs and attached to their socks. The edge of the woods pulled closer and closer, and, in a split second, they were past the barrier. Oliver let out some breathless laughs as he heard the wildlife part from their thundering path.

He paused in his run to make sure Finn was still with him. That boy always got weird in the forest. Finn had slowed now, staring up at the sky. “Finn?” He snapped his fingers close to his face. 

“Don’t.” Finn’s eyes had been hazy with thought, but now they turned back to their terrifying clarity. Oliver flinched back from him. Sweet saltines, he could be scary.

“We, uh… we still have to go. Or he’s going to leave without us.” 

Finn grunted in acknowledgement and gestured them forward. Both of them started running again. Branches were now grabbing at anything they could, scraping and clawing and gripping, making sure to deposit leaves and twigs on them when they could. Another turn, and they’d arrived at a large clearing, and in that clearing, was an enormous lake. A single boat rested to the shore nearest the two. 

It was a scraggly old thing with barnacles clambering up the sides and sails that sagged like a couch that had been sat on too many times. Red sun-bleached paint chipped down the sides in large proud swoops, then faded into nothing as they got farther down as it mingled with the barnacles. And  _ sweet saltine crackers was it beat to high heaven. _ At this point, it was probably more dent than boat. 

Uncle Hawford, the guy who owned this particular boat, had installed a motor as well, just because he could. He didn’t want to admit he was just too lazy to take down the sails, assuring Oliver that it would be easier to just maneuver them to help the motor. And to be fair, he was pretty good at it. 

Oliver cackled. “We made it!” He whipped his head around to Finn, who had the same placid look on his face at all times. “O-oh, uhm-” Oliver began to flounder when that piercing gaze was turned on him fully after this statement. He ducked his head away before sauntering over to the boat. It was hard to be excited when the person next to you didn’t react at all. It made Oliver feel out of place. 

Hawford was as scraggly as his boat, a full beard of fire hanging just below his lip. A long scar ran from his left temple all the way down to the bottom right corner of his jaw. His face always rested in a subtle scowl, but he was by no means an angry guy. He was actually very upbeat, and extremely smart when it came to the sea. Hawford was standing on the bow of his little sail boat/motor boat hybrid when Oliver tumbled up to the edge of the water. “UNCLE HEE-HAW!” 

“I am right here, young’n.” Hawford glanced over his shoulder, turning on his heels and snapping them together before hopping off the bow and walking back towards where the two kids were now waiting patiently. “Been waitin for ya to get your tookus down here.” Uncle Hawford’s accent was heavier than Oliver’s by a long shot, but it also had a bit of an edge to it which made him almost sound like a pirate. He kinda looked like one too. 

Oliver hopped onto the main part of the boat, where the people sat, as Hawford offered his hand to Finn. “In case ya don’t got your sea legs yet.” 

Oli hunkered down in his seat and looked out over the calm waters. It was a lake, so it wasn’t like it could have waves or anything, but right now the waters were exceedingly clear. These were the best kinds of days in Oliver’s mind. The clouds in the sky were sparse and he could make out all the colourful little fish as they skirted around the boat. He knew they’d scatter faster once they actually started moving. It was perfect, and absolutely nothing could ruin this day.

The boat wobbled as Finn clumsily made his way inside. Hawford sat down near the motor and jerked the pull cord a few times to start it up. The engine sputtered as it groaned to life, churning the water around it before giving a mighty heave off the shore and steadily moving them forward. Oliver leaned out over the side and dipped his fingers into the water, humming as they chugged along. He could feel Finn’s eyes on him. That was another thing that happened a lot, Finn staring at him. Oliver never understood it, but he knew it happened. It was better if he didn’t ask about it, since he knew either way Finn wouldn’t respond. He hadn’t the first time he asked. In fact after the first time, he stopped talking to him altogether but didn’t shove him away. It made Oliver feel awful so he just let him. 

Finn was honestly an enigma to everyone, as far as Oliver knew. He never seemed to express any emotion except mild annoyance. He never laughed, he never cried, never in front of people at the least. Oliver pulled his hand back and slunk down against the side, watching as Hawford stroked his beard, eyes on the horizon. “How long till we get home?” 

“When we get there.” Hawford’s eyes flicked down, then between the two. The cogs in his head were spinning, but only about as fast as the boat was moving. “Hey, you an’ your friend want to come spend the day on Saturday?” He’d never met Finn before now, so he- incorrectly or not- figured there was some sort of tension between them. Maybe they needed a break.

“We’d have to ask Finn’s parents, you know that.” A bubble of excitement burst in his chest at the offer, though. “And mom and dad would be alright with it, I’d just have to let them know.” Oliver spared a glance to Finn, to see if there was any indication that he wanted to do this. All he got was a vacant, tired stare. The excitement quelled like before. 

They arrived at the rickety old house nestled against the shore within a few minutes. Oliver grabbed his bag as he slung his legs over the side. Sure, it had only been a few minutes of a ride, but it was one of the few times his parents let him anywhere near a boat. He could feel the mud squish under his tennis shoes as he pushed off the edge. Paint flecks clung to the seat of his pants and fluttered to the ground. He took a few steps forward before turning. “Do you want my mom to drive you home?”   
Finn was staring at the mud with intense disgust. “No no, I can just walk.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” Finn tip-toed his way through the mud, holding his bag over his head, nose wrinkling more at every squelch. “God- how do you live here?” 

Oliver blinked in disbelief. “Finny. It’s mud. It’s on the shore. It’s s’posed to be there, and no force of mine could remove it.” He stepped back so Finn could get on some solid ground. “You’re smart ain’t ya? You should know this.” 

“I do, but that doesn’t mean you have to… to live here.” His friend rested his bag back down on his shoulders. “And you wonder why I never go to the lake with you… It’s unsanitary at best.”

“Don’t you live near mud?” 

“I-” Finn’s cheeks went red. That was one of the other emotions he showed. If he was proven wrong, he’d get flustered and upset. He had to be right all the time. Usually, Oliver let him be, but right now he was annoyed that he’d ruined his excitement.

Hawford had sailed off at this point, since his house was still a ways down the lake. Finn crossed his arms. “And I’m not going with you to his house on Saturday.” He began to walk up the scattered stones to the house. 

Oliver forgot to follow for a few seconds too long, and had to jog to catch up. “He has a dock. You don’t have to get in the mud.” 

“It isn’t the mud, Oliver.” Finn grit his teeth. “I’m not going.” 

“You don’t have to get in the water either.” He didn’t know why he was trying so hard to convince Finn, but Uncle Hawford was special and he wanted to share some time with both his favourite people. Not to mention it would get them both out of the house; Oliver was convinced Finn never left his house unless he had to. Spending time with him outside of school was something he’d always wanted to do, and now he had an excuse to do it. 

He must have said something wrong because Finn stopped in his tracks, staring him down. “Really. I wasn’t aware that was something I could do. I don’t care. Oliver. I’m not going.” He gripped the straps of his bag tighter, knuckles draining of colour. Sure, he got annoyed, but this was pure hatred.

Oliver could have sworn his heart clenched. This didn’t even seem like the same Finn anymore. “I just want to do something fun with you, Finn…” His voice fell to a partial whisper. He should be used to the looks by now, but he wasn’t. He let his gaze trickle down to the mud that was starting to seep into Finn’s socks. 

Finn gave him a quick once-over, then continued walking.


	3. The end of the line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for death by drowning, or just death.  
> Oliver and Finn get into a wee bit of an argument.  
> I also do two view points in one chapter, which is great.

It was a tense morning in the Owens household on Saturday. Finn locked himself in his room in the days leading up to the ‘lake hangout’ as his mom called it so lovingly. She was thrilled that her son was going to do something with someone for once. She asked Finn about it at any possible opportunity. This was part of the reason why he locked himself in his room. The other reason was that he was upset at himself for giving in to Oliver’s constant badgering. It made his stomach flip. 

A knock on the door snapped him out of his brooding. 

“Are you ready?” His mother’s golden curls peeking through the door, followed by the rest of her head.

“Yes.” Finn grabbed the crumpled green duffle bag next to the bed and slunk towards the door. 

His mother settled her hand on his left shoulder. “Hey, I know you might not want to do this,” Finn almost scoffed at this, “but try and have some fun, ok? Or at the very least pretend.” She ruffled his hair one final time before going to the idling car. 

Finn took a moment to fix his hair, then went out to the car. The ride was pretty uneventful, his mother doing most of the talking, and it wasn’t long before they arrived at the lake house. He sat there. Today was going to be a very very long day.

Oliver had been pacing for the past ten minutes. It was hard to decide what he felt. Excitement mostly, but also a thimbleful of anxiety. He didn’t really have people over often, and he was bringing Finn over of all people. 

Hawford was nursing a bottle of whisky at the dinner table. “You’re gonna work a path into that wood if you keep pacin like that.” He sipped his drink, using the neck of the bottle to gesture to the chair across from him. “Take a sit.” 

The sound of a horn outside pulled Oliver to the door. A silver SUV was parked in the driveway, mud packed into the grooves of the wheels. A woman with blonde hair was turned around in the front, and the form of someone else was visible in the back. One of the back doors opened and the sulking figure of Finn pushed out onto the gravel. 

Oliver pushed open the screen door and hopped down the steps. “FINN!” He barreled towards him. 

Finn lifted his head. “No-” He was cut short by Oliver, who body-slammed him into a hug. 

“I’m so glad you came!” 

“Sure.” Finn pushed him off. 

Oliver immediately began to pull him towards the door, the excitement finally winning out over the anxiety. He was already in his swim trunks. 

Hawford groaned as he stood. “Good to see ya again, Mr. Finn.” He flashed him a grin full of yellow teeth. 

“Nice to see you again too.” Finn was very clearly not happy to see him again. He dropped his bag onto the rickety wooden floor and surveyed the room with an air of faint disgust. “Just so you know, I won’t be swimming today. I would much rather sit and watch.” The words came out flattly, like in a middle school play when the kid who was forced to be in the show said their lines. Oliver didn’t really mind either way. He’d showed up. That’s all that mattered. 

Uncle Hawford laughed. “Ya ain’t got your sea legs?”

“Hee haw, this is a lake.” Oliver chided. “And you aren’t a pirate.” 

“It ain’t just pirates that talk like this.” 

Finn looked visibly annoyed by this exchange despite not even being apart of it. He walked around to one of the windows and stared blankly out at the lake. Oliver kept glancing to him, and then to Uncle Hawford. There was a beat of silence, then Hawford gestured Finn outside. “Ya wanna go outside ‘n see how the waters doin?” 

Finn didn’t argue. He just opened the screen door. 

Hawford turned his attention back to Oliver. “You surely know how to pick em, Olive.” 

“I know. I know he’s cold an prickly. But he’s the only friend I’ve got.” All that anxiety from before bubbled up and spilled violently over the surface. “I thought he’d have a fun time even if he ain’t wantin to swim. He also ain’t that social of a person so I figured since it was just the three of us he’d be okay I just-”

“Oli, it’s okay.” Hawford placed a calloused hand on his shoulder. “He’s just a lil odd. But ya gotta be confident about this.” He smiled again. “You got this. Even if he ain’t the most sun shiny o’ people, I betcha you can make this fun for him.” He scruffed his hair up with his other hand. “Now go have fun.” 

Oliver’s spirits swelled and he nodded, running out of the screen door. He could make this work. They could have fun. He skid up to where Finn was standing. “How’s the water?” He spoke through hurried breaths. 

“Wet.” Finn’s disinterested tone would normally dissuade him from continued conversation, but not this time. Oliver wriggled out of his sweater and leapt into the chilled waters of Lake Warden. The frigid waters wrapped their hands around his heart and stilled it for a beat or two. Then he broke the surface of the water and took a deep breath, the inviting warmth of the sun rushing over his face.. “Fiiinnn, cmon, get in. It ain’t awful cold” He paddled back closer to the dock. 

“I told you before, I don’t like the water. It’s gross, and there is no telling what’s below the surface..” Finn crossed his arms as Hawford brought out two foldable chairs. He set them down on the dock, gesturing for Finn to sit. 

“Your mama said you didn’t wanna swim.” He raised his bottle to him before taking a large drink. “You wantin anythin to wet your whistle? Snacks?” 

“No thank you, sir. I’m okay.” 

Oliver spent the next ten minutes splashing around, diving under the water and pulling up rocks to stack on the deck like a Bird of Prey decorating it living space. He didn’t really know why he did it, it was just something to do, but eventually he had a pile big enough to make a tiny wall. “Finn, please. It isn’t as fun if you ain’t in the water.”

Finn sneered in disgust. “No.” He moved his chair back. “It’s full of bacteria that can put you in the hospital for years, not to mention the leeches.” Finn crossed his arms. “Besides, I would rather not get in the water with  _ you _ .”

Oliver tread water near the dock. “Uncle Haw? Can you go make us some of your delicious sweet tea?” He kept looking back at Finn. Hawford seemed to get the message and nodded, getting out of there so they could talk. 

Oliver rested his arms on the dock and looked up at him. “Ok, what’s your problem, dude?” 

“Problem? I have no problem.”

“Yes, you do!” Oliver pushed himself up so that the top half of his body was supported. “Ever since I met you, I have tried to be as nice and as patient as possible. But you keep pushing me away! You never talk to other people, our teachers have to force you to work in a group, and I’ve never even seen you outside of your house if we aren’t at school!” He moved back into the water, with his arms still on the dock. “I just to know why you’re always so distant. I want to know why you push me away at every chance you get. You’re lonely, I can see that, but part of me thinks you’re scared. I want you to know that it’s okay, and that I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Finn sat there in silence, eyes locked onto his friend’s, then eased to a standing position. “How dare you, how dare you presume to know me. I am not ‘afriad’, and I am by no means lonely. You’ve been nothing but an annoying brat ever since I met you, but I’ve always held my tongue. And do you know why? It’s because I knew that if I told you how much I wish you would simply die so I wouldn’t have to talk to you, you would scream and cry and wail and that would draw everyone’s attention. And I don’t want that.” The way he was looking at Oliver…. There was nothing behind those eyes. 

“But… You... Why did you even bother? If I’m that bad, then why don’t you just tell me? Are you just that…  **selfish** ? To want to hurt me that b-” 

Oliver only had a few seconds to process the rash of anger that contorted Finn’s face before his head was submerged in water, a force holding him down that he couldn’t swim up against. He tried to push up through the water while simultaneously scratching at the wrist of the hand forcing him down. The muscles and tendons were tight with tension; Finn’s nails were digging into his flesh. Rocks scraped at his feet and mud billowed around him; limbs flailing on instinct for self preservation. Panic kept his lungs full of the last breath he’d taken, but it was starting to burn something fierce. It was a feeling he could only describe as feeling like acid had been poured on the bottom of his lungs and it was beginning to seep out. His body knew this was killing him, he needed to breath soon or he’d pass out. Oliver’s throat squeezed tight though, refusing to let in the cold water that now seemed more like inky black death than ever before. The thrashing and clawing was getting weaker, his fingers and toes going numb, and his head was starting to get fuzzy. He didn’t want to die, not like this. Not now. Not from him.

He didn’t mean to try and breathe in, but his mind didn’t know what else to do. The rush for self preservation had weaked, and he was now only focused on air. Water rushed down his windpipe and pooled in his lung. He struggled to push it back out but ended up swallowing down more. Oliver could feel his limbs grow heavy, and his chest and stomach went cold. His arms drifted away from his throat, and his vision went black. 


	4. To get away with murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn is bad at lying. Shorter chapter here.

Finn stood near the edge of the scene, watching paramedics try to revive Oliver. He was next to Hawford who was wrapped in a shock blanket. He hunched his shoulders as the cop in front of them asked questions. 

“You say you were in the house at the time this happened?”

Hawford nodded, his eyes vacant and glossy. “He… he asked for some sweet tea, but I had t’ make some since I was out.” He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

“And what were you doing?” The officer turned to Finn

“We were just… talking, then he went under. And he didn’t come back up.” 

The officer raised a brow. “He just... went under?” 

Finn shook his head, struggling to come up with a situation where Oliver would actually do that. “He dipped under, not like something pulled him down. I thought he did it just to scare me….” He forced his voice to break, giving it emotions he wasn’t feeling. 

Hawford wrapped part of the shock blanket around him. “I taught Oli to swim when he was still a lil young’n. He could hold his breath for ‘bout a minute.” Finn felt himself get pulled closer. 

The officer raised a brow at that. “Alright, and how long were you in the house?” 

“Somewhere ‘round 10 minutes.” 

The officer was scribbling furiously. He turned his attention back to Finn. “How long would you say you two talked?” 

Finn looked down. He didn’t really know how long it took him to stop moving, but if he wanted to make it home, he needed to make this reasonable. “Around three minutes.” He nodded

The officer noted something down, no doubt what he’d just been told, and flipped his notepad shut. “Right… Now, I’m sure this has been a rather… upsetting experience for you. But we might have to call you two down for more questioning.” 

Finn forced himself to bite his tongue. He hated how disinterested the officer sounded. Like this was routine for him. He didn’t know why this was the thing that upset him, but he couldn’t really focus on that much longer as he spotted his mother’s car pulling up to the driveway. 

His mother scrambled out of the driver’s seat and ran over. “Finn! Finnegan!” She was caught by an officer on her way towards him, wide eyed and pale as she reached out. “Let me go! Please!” 

Finn didn’t really have to ask the officer questioning him to let him go as he was already being ushered towards his mom. He wasn’t complaining though; he just wanted to get out of here. His mother swept him into her arms, crying and asking if he was ok. Hah. Like he had been in danger. But he had to act, or he’d fall under suspicion. 

“Mom… c.. can we go home, now?” He faked a voice shake. God, it was disgusting. His mother nodded and happily led him to the car, asking if he was ok one more time before letting him get in. The ride home was tense, at least for the first half. His mom kept asking every five seconds or so if he was ok, and what had happened and if someone had attacked them. She finally got the hint that he’d been questioned enough and for the latter half of the ride, they sat in silence. It was a blissful ten minutes. 

As soon as he got home, his father almost did the same thing before his mother brought him into the other room to talk. Finn took the chance to barricade himself in his room and wash. He knew he should feel… anything really. He should feel something, considering he just murdered his ‘best friend’. But no, he simply felt empty. It was like he’d just killed a fly.

It was as he was stepping out of the shower that he realized what he’d done. Not that he’d taken a human life, no, but that he’d opened himself up to the possibility of jail. He’d be facing life. He couldn’t survive there. Oh no, he’d have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. He was in danger now.

And here, standing buck naked on the bathroom tile. He began to cry.


	5. Unfamiliar Faces, Unfamiliar places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver makes a new friend and they vibe together. Just existing, man.

Oliver sat up with a pained gasp. 

The second thing he realized was that he was cold and completely numb. But the first thing he noticed was the girl sitting across from him. She looked almost as tall as him, with long brunette hair and tired green eyes. She was also wearing what appeared to be a nightgown. The one thing that stuck out were the two holes in her body. One was in her abdomen, near her hip, and the other was in the middle of her rib cage. The area around the holes were stained a deep dull red. 

“You’re up.” 

He jumped when she spoke, completely forgetting he was staring. “Hi…?” Oliver pushed himself back. By now, he noticed that he could see the tree behind her… through her. 

It was now the girl’s turn to stare. “You’ve been out for five days.”

Oliver pushed up and stumbled back a few paces. He didn’t like this one bit. “I see…” Questions began prodding at his skull, begging to be asked. Why was he here? Why  _ wasn’t  _ he at the hospital? Why was she see-through? And also had bullet holes? Oliver felt like he would overload this poor girl if he spewed out all those questions at once, so he started where he could. “Well, I’m Oliver. And you are…?”

“Nicole.” She stood in one swift motion. 

Oliver took another step back. He felt so… cold, like he wasn’t all there. “So, you saved me, but you just left me on the shore? You didn’t take me to a hospital?” There was a growing sense of dread pooling in the bottom of his stomach. 

Nicole stared at him, a sad smile in her eyes. “There would be no need to, Oliver.” She folded her hands in front of her. 

“What do you…”

“I pulled you out of that lake dead.” 

It was like a punch to the gut, knocking the few bits of feeling he had left right out of him. His legs turned to noodles, his throat closed up again and his eyes went wide. It made sense now. Why he was so cold, why he could even see Nicole, the girl with the bullet holes. Oliver was aware of himself shaking his head, saying something that was probably said in denial, but he didn’t know that for sure. Nicole was moving closer, looking worried. She was saying something, her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear what. 

Now, she was pressed up against his chest. The feeling returned to him as he looked down. She was squirming and the worry had turned to panic. Oliver released his grip as soon as he came back to it. “Oh, jeez, I- sorry.” 

Nicole shoved herself back and brushed off her gown. She looked like she’d just been fighting for her life… or… her death. “It’s completely fine. You don’t usually react well when being told you died. Although, I didn’t exactly expect that. And, just for future reference,” she crossed her arms, “I don’t like physical contact, so please don’t do that again.” At least she didn’t look too mad. Come to think of it, she didn’t look too much of anything, her face was expressionless. Like a blank slate. 

“I won’t, sorry.” Oliver finally caught a glimpse of himself as he averted his gaze. He wasn’t wearing what he’d drowned in. He was in a blue sweater and khaki pants with dress shoes. He also noticed that his nails had something that looked like dirt under them. 

Nicole folded her hands again, relaxing her shoulders. “Now, what I was asking was if you wanted me to take you out of the forest.” 

“Yes, please.”

“Then follow me.” She turned on her heels and began to lead them out. Oliver followed close behind. It was weird being what he assumed was a ghost. He didn’t float around, but he passed through a fair amount of trees and bushes, which felt extremely weird. It felt like sticking your hand through a bowl of jell-o, but over your entire body. 

Nicole wasn’t really talkative. Oliver learned this pretty quickly. He tried to make conversation, but she always shut him down with short quick responses. The likeness to Finn was startling, to say the least. But Finn didn’t show when he was distressed, so there was hope. 

Soon, they emerged into a small cluster of buildings. It was early morning, so only a handful of people mulled around the streets, still waking up. Oliver knew where they were now. This was where Finn lived. No one looked at them as they walked through the streets. It was an eerie feeling, not even the people sitting and watching everyone meeting your eyes. 

“Where do you live?” 

Oliver jumped because of Nicole for the second time in an hour. He hadn’t expected her to actually talk. “Oh, uh. I know the way, here.” He picked up the pace so he was a bit more in front now, turning down streets and weaving through partially run down businesses. The house was just as he’d left it, chipped paint and all. His strides got faster the closer he got to the door. His parents were probably torn to pieces about this… Oliver pushed through the door and looked around. 

The only way to describe the atmosphere in that house was dead. Everything was absolutely still, heck, it didn’t seem like the wall clock was going. Trays of casseroles were piled high on the countertops, wilted flowers were on every table and Oliver’s picture was propped up in a frame on the table in the middle. It crumpled Oliver’s soul. He could practically taste the stale five day old pain in the foundations of the house. Nicole walked up behind him. 

“I don’t want to discourage you but...“

“But they won’t see me, cause I’m a ghost.” Oliver was already looking around for his parents. “I’ve seen paranormal shows.” 

Nicole scoffed. “Not like those are accurate, but yes. They won’t see you.” She looked back at him. Oliver was scowling. “Ah…” She took a step back. “Right. I will… wait down here then.” 

He found his parents upstairs in the bedroom they shared. His mother was laying down, staring vacantly at the wall and his father was dressing outside the closet so he could make sure his tie was straight. 

“Please try to take care of yourself while I’m gone, dear.” His dad grabbed the suit coat from the hanger on the wall. His mom brought her legs up to her chest, not responding. Oliver reached out to her but paused. They couldn’t see him, right. He resigned himself to the chair in the corner of the room so he could watch.

His father sat down next to her. “Michelle, please. I don’t want you to go into any dark places, like before.” He laid his hand on her thigh and reached up brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. Michelle turned her head as little as possible to look at him. 

“Marv, I promise. I’ll be ok.” She placed her hand on his before laying her head back and closing her eyes. “Now, get going. You’re going to be late. Send Amelia over if you need to.” 

Marv planted a soft kiss on her cheek and pulled his hand back. He stayed there. The anguish shared between them was palpable. Oliver couldn’t take it much longer. He leaned over and hugged them both, closing his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” He felt them both shudder from his touch until he let go. He left before he started bawling his eyes out. 

Nicole had been waiting downstairs, just as she’d said, and had managed to find the family cat. Her head popped up from behind the couch as Oliver came down. “So, did you drown, or did someone drown you?” 

He sat down next to her. “That’s a very forward question.” 

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed, since we don’t have anything else to do, we might as well get to know each other.” 

Oliver mulled over this for a moment. No, they didn’t have anything to do. But she didn’t seem like the most personable type to hang around. And he really did want some alone time now, even if that was temporary. But on the other hand, it would be better to have someone around who could not only talk to him, but help him with settling into this new type of existence. 

He squinted. “But what if I don’t want you to stay?” It came out a little harsher than intended, and Oliver tensed. “Wait- I mean, I just-“

“No, no, I get what you meant. People didn’t like to stay around me before, anyway.” Nicole crossed her legs. “...But you’re right, it was a bit forward to assume that. I apologize.” She squished the cats ears. 

They sat there in silence. 

“My friend drowned me.” 

Nicole’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Suddenly, the cat was ten times more interesting to her. “I’m sorry, I guess.” 

Oliver shrugged. He didn’t know how to feel about it just yet, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. “What happened to you then?”

“House got robbed.” Nicole sighed. “I heard gunshots and went downstairs, like an idiot. They’d already killed my father when I got there.” She tapped her finger on the couch, clearly thinking about something. “You know, I’ve thought about this a lot, but I don’t know why my dad isn’t a ghost too. I mean, we both died under the same circumstances.” 

“Maybe he is and he just got up and moved before you woke up?” Oliver pondered over this, looking up as his dad walked past them and out the door. “That’s Cheese, by the way.” He poked one of the cats paws. 

“Cheese…” Nicole was smiling now. “It fits.” She laughed as Cheese sneezed and fell off the couch. “She’s a dork. And I think she’s mine now.” 

“Yeah.” A moment of silence passed between them before he asked another question. “Have you ever met any other ghosts?” 

Nicole messed with a lock of hair. “Yeah. Most ghosts don’t really leave their hometowns, or state, or country at the most. There are very few drifters.” She leaned over and fiddled with the remote, trying to move it and turn on the TV. “I haven’t left the county yet, I’m too nervous.” 

Oliver’s interest was now piqued. “How do you know all this?” 

“I’ve been dead for almost 10 years now. It’s not the longest time in the world, but it gives you a good view of the world of being dead.” She finally got the TV on and grinned. “Yes!” Nicole leaned back with a clap. 

The news was on at the moment, showing a recap of what happened down at the lake. It had been five days and they were still talking about it. Oliver cringed. A suicide… they were saying it had been a suicide. Finn and Uncle Hawford’s pictures flashed on screen. The white hot stab of anger that buried into Oliver’s heart at the sight of Finn almost blinded him. “That little… person.” He clenched his fist. 

Nicole gave him a look. “Person?” She sighed. “I don’t think I need to say this, but that’s not an insult.” Her eyes went back to the T.V. “He’s the one that killed you, then?” Nicole nodded towards the screen. 

Oliver had aggressively been trying to change the channel. His hand kept going through the remote whenever he tried to press the buttons. “Yes, he was- Nicky, how do you do this?” He looked back to her as she picked up the cat and cradled it in her arms. 

“Just try and… jeez, I don’t know. I pretend I’m not dead but that doesn’t really help you. I don’t really think about it much anymore, I’ve been dead for so long.” She set Cheese down. “I suppose just try and… pretend you aren’t dead. Yeah.” 

Oliver stared at her, then turned back to the remote. “Oh.” He hovered his hand over it, sticking his tongue out in concentration. For a second, he could feel the plastic case settling into his hand before it sank back through his palm. A grin began to spread over his face.

The two sat there for the next few hours, getting comfortable with each other. Oliver told Nicole about how he and Finn had met and how he’d tried to make friends with him. Nicole, in turn, told him about her life back in the day. She’d gotten a N64 for Christmas the year before, and she’d been able to watch the OJ Simpson trial live. Oliver was enraptured by her conversation. He tried to tell her about anything interesting that had happened to him, but he hadn’t done that much when he thought about it. 

It was around 4:00 PM when the doorbell rang. His father had come home only thirty minutes earlier, and was taking a bath, so his mother came down to open the door. Oliver leaned back over the couch to see who it was. 

His mother’s shoulders relaxed. “Mrs. Owens. I’m so glad you could come over.” She moved to the side and let in a tall woman with blonde hair stride in. She looked so familiar… That day, at the lake. That was Finn’s mother. Oliver stood abruptly. What if she brought  _ him _ along? 

Nicole was looking up at him. “What’s wrong?” Her hand hovered over his shoulder. He bat her hand away as he hurried out. If he saw Finn now, he would snap. 


	6. Hey, ghosts exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG BIG TW FOR SELF HARM
> 
> Finn has an episode as I try and figure out if I actually characterized him right. I think I might have watched too much criminal minds.

Finn was indeed at the door. He was standing behind his mother, his arms folded behind his back. She’d dragged him over since he’d told his mother he didn’t want to go to the wake, but, since he figured ‘paying respects’ would be a natural response, that he wanted to go the next day. He’d been doing his best to delay it, but here he was. 

His mother led him inside, but quickly got wrapped up in a conversation with Oliver’s mom and seemed to forget he was there. Finn shoved his hands into the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing. He might as well get comfortable. The family cat was watching them from the windowsill. What did Oliver say her name was? It didn’t matter, he was happy to see her either way. 

The cat was always the best part about coming over. Finn made his way to the windowsill and ran his hand down her back. He smiled as she began to purr. Oliver’s mom and his own walked to the kitchen, leaving him to his own devices. Finn sat down, letting the calm silence of the room fill his senses. It was a much needed break from the constant feeling of being watched, whether it be by his parents or by the police. That second one was up for debate though, he didn’t really know if the police were watching him, but it sure felt like it. Of course, Finn had always been averse to technology, but now he tried to avoid it like it was the new black plague. They could track anything back to him, and- 

A chill shot through his spine. DNA .  If they found his DNA on Oliver’s body where it normally wouldn’t be, then he was done for. No, wait. He needed to come up with an explanation before that happened. Another chill ran along his shoulders, one that he was positive hadn’t been caused by any sort of realization. Finn stood, eying the room around him. He looked back at the cat. She was laying on her side, staring up at him. Nothing wrong there… gah, what was he thinking? There isn’t anything paranormal here, he was being paranoid.

Now, Finn wouldn’t outright say paranormal things don’t exist, just that they haven't been proven. Then again, if Oliver was a ghost- No, this didn’t prove shit. It was just a random chill. Finn shook his head. He needed to get more sleep, this was getting out of hand. He could hear his mom in the kitchen still, talking about some work stress or another. Everything was ok. He would be ok. He just needed to come up with a reasonable explanation for whatever they found. 

If they found any DNA, he could just say they fought over something, and that Oliver had been conscious when he slipped under the water. No, that he turned his back and then when he looked back again, Oliver was gone. Oh, but that would change his story. Maybe if he admitted to Oliver hitting him, or if he said he’d grabbed Oliver’s arm a bit rough and he’d scratched him to get him to let go. Finn had been careful to bandage his wrists so no one saw the scratches. What if the detective noticed them though? He would ask, and the whole story would fall apart. Why hadn’t he come up with something better? They would find him guilty. They would just find him guilty and that was that. Finn got up, stumbled to the bathroom and hugged the toilet, spilling the contents of his stomach into the porcelain. Finn didn’t want to go to jail. He would die there. He would die in a pitiful gross death in a place surrounded by the scum of the world. He was a teenager; he could be tried as an adult. The wounds on his legs pulsed, prodding him and begging to be added to. He needed to, he needed to-

Finn bent his head back down, another wave of gagging washing over him. Now he was just coughing up pure bile. Sweat dewed on his brow. The feeling quelled and left him gasping for air again. He needed to release this. To relieve some stress. Finn landed back and yanked up his pant leg. He didn’t have anything on hand, so he just began scratching, scratching,  **scratching** . 

“Oh my  _ god _ !”

Finn jerked his head up, quickly shoving the pant back down. He almost vomited again. 

Oliver was standing over him, eyes wide. How… How was he there? He shouldn’t be there, no, this was all wrong, this was impossible- 

“Finn, can you… see me?” ‘Oliver’ crouched. Finn moved back. 

“You’re not real. You.. no, you’re not real. You can’t be.” He forced the words out to try and keep himself from hyperventilating, but it didn’t stop the pathetic anxious laugh that trickled out with them. “You’re dead.” 

The Oliver spectre moved back. “Uh-huh. I’m dead,” he frowned, “and it’s your fault.” He sat cross legged. “But you seem to care a little? So I guess I’m a bit less mad. Nice to know you did actually like me a little.” 

Finn looked him up and down from where he sat, crunched up against the wall. He was losing it, wasn’t he? “I don’t… no?” The initial shock of seeing him ebbed away, but he was still freaking out. He didn’t realize he was already at this stage of paranoia, even if he expected hallucinations at some point. At least he was alone for this conversation. “I meant what I said before. I  _ hate _ you.” This wasn’t real, and even if it was, there wasn’t anything Oliver could do about it. He was dead. Maybe if he confronted this thing it would disappear. Maybe it would snap his mind out of this.

The ghost recoiled. His face went from surprise to hurt to angry to concerned and then back to angry in the span of a second or two. “Oh. Oh that’s fricked up.” He turned his head to the sink then back again. “So you don’t even care that you…. Wow. Ok.” 

“Of course, Oliver. I never liked you. I haven’t liked you since the day we met.” The spectre flinched back, and the remaining lights in his eyes were extinguished. Finn focused on his breathing and relaxed his shoulders. “But holy shit, even that didn’t get rid of you and your annoying ass.” He flushed the toilet and pushed past Oliver. He couldn’t let himself slip up in front of people if this ghost vision decided to stick around. He needed to figure out a way to cover this up. Or explain it away, give a jury reasonable doubt if it comes to it. Maybe it was some sort of grief stricken hysteria. 

The hallucination ran after him. “Hey, wait!” 

Finn didn’t respond, since the adults could hear him now, but turned back to him. 

“You- you… why?” Oliver’s shoulders slumped. “I know I was mean at the lake, but why… Did you kill me? I was just telling you how I felt.” He looked so crushed. “I thought maybe if I got it out, then we could… I don’t know, move past it. But you just drowned me. Even if you hated me… ” 

Finn grit his teeth against the argument trying to claw out of his throat. He just had to bite his tongue, like he did for years. This wasn’t real, and it was clinging to him. 

Oliver closed the distance with a few steps. “What were you doing in there? Scratching yourself and all…” 

An awkward silence now rushed to fill whatever gap had been left between them. Finn really didn’t want to say anything about that, not only because his mother would hear but because it was a personal thing that would make him seem even crazier. He lowered his voice. “Do. Not ask.” And with that he plopped down on the couch. Cheese bound over to him, only concerned about getting affection from either of them. Finn happily scratched her ears.


	7. A plan starts to form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parents talk about some stuff and it gives Oliver an idea. 
> 
> Another kind of short chapter.

Oliver hated this with a burning passion. He had been holding on to the thin hope that maybe Finn had done it in a fit of rage and now had second thoughts, but no. No, it was just because he was annoying. He was dead because the one person he considered a somewhat good friend lied for years. Nicole was next to him. 

“Are you ok…?” She was also visibly upset, but Oliver figured that was just because Finn had the cat. 

Oliver shook his head. He was seething. “He doesn’t give a single f.. a flip.” He sunk his fingers into the carpet. “I can’t wait for him to go to jail.” He hissed before looking over into the kitchen to check on his mom. 

She was sitting there quietly in the kitchen now, wrapped in Mrs. Owens arms. It was an odd sight, considering it was the mother of who he now only saw as his murderer. Mrs. Owens didn’t know though, so he couldn’t get upset at her. His mom was smiling though, even if it was just the faint impression of one. Oliver jumped as his dad walked through him to the fridge. 

Marv pulled out a beer and some package of ground beef. “I’m going to start dinner if you’d like to stay, Amelia.” He popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig. 

“Oh, no no. I couldn’t.” Mrs. Owens waved her hand. “I just wanted to come over to offer some company.”

Michelle smiled. “Oh come on, stay, stay. It makes the house a little less quiet.” She looked to the living room. “I would make sure Finn is ok with it first.” 

Amelia was quiet for a moment. “Speaking of Finn.. I’m worried about him. He doesn’t say a word about Oliver anymore. And he’s gotten so jumpy.” She tapped an acrylic nail against the wooden table. “I want him to go to counseling, but I don’t know how to talk to him about that.” 

“I would suggest sitting him down and bringing it up, and if he thinks he doesn’t need it, ask him to at least try.” Michelle nodded. “And if he says no again, then just leave it be. If it gets to a point where you think he’s about to do something- to himself or others- then just bring him there. Even if he gets mad, it’ll be better in the long term.”

Mrs. Owens listened quietly; her eyes never left Finn. She looked up when Michelle stopped talking. “I suppose. But would he really talk if I forced him?” The room fell to silence. Everyone’s attention turned to Finn, who was messing with Cheese’s ears as he fiddled with the tv. 

Oliver followed their gaze. An idea slowly formed, as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Torment him. Do anything to get a reaction, and lock him into some therapy. Ghosts could possess people, right? He’d have to ask Nicole about that, but he needed him to confess. One way or another, Finn would talk and get what he deserved. Not death, he wouldn’t wish that on him, but some form of justice. That would be enough.


	8. A new perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to put the events down through Nicole's point of view, and also I redid her entire character so if some of the stuff isn't consistent with previous chapters that's probably why.

Nicole glared at Finn as he picked up Cheese. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who deserved the happiness an animal provided. He didn’t deserve any happiness. Mm… maybe that was a bit extreme, but seeing him smile this soon after a murder was revolting. 

She forced herself to turn away from him; the rest of the room nabbed her attention. Oliver’s family seemed to only spend money when something was beyond saving. Paint peeled from the wall in large chunks and popped screws made their own pattern in what remained. It almost hurt how much it reminded her of her own house. The faint whiff of mildew in the air, the suspiciously damp carpet, all of it was reminiscent of a time when her heart still beat.

She pulled her mind off that topic. Thinking about home was always hard, but every now and again, it was good to go back to it. It kept her grounded. Nicole looked back to Oliver. He needed a break from all this. First being dead- murdered in fact- then the whole ordeal with his friend, and now watching his family grieve. She couldn’t imagine how he was feeling right now. This wasn’t exactly what she was expecting when she pulled him out of the river. 

It had been dark when she’d seen him. Nicole usually sat around lakes and rivers when she got the chance. She liked watching the things that flowed down and swam around beneath the surface. Just going wherever the water wanted to take them. A fish had gone by, a small one that she could have reached out and cupped in her hand, and then a water bug. She’d been content. The world had been content. 

Then the body floated past. It wasn’t hard to see that he was dead. He was facedown, not moving, and his body was pale. No, not pale. Luminescent. A soul. Nicole had recoiled, then hopped in the water. It wasn’t like she could get her clothes wet. Her hand grasped his wrist, dragging him to the shore of the lake.

“Oh dear…” Nicole leaned down and patted his cheeks, trying to wake him up. There was no way to really resuscitate a ghost- they don’t have a heartbeat or a need to breath- so when he didn’t wake, she just sat back. A handful of police cars rushed past behind her. Someone had died; by the look of things it was probably drowning. She followed the sound of police sirens to the scene of the crime. They’d pulled the body out, and the family was holding onto each other in despair. A woman and man were clinging onto each other while a third comforted both from the side. Those two were the parents no doubt. The body was in the process of being put into the hearse. 

She felt bad for them. Unlike her father, they had to deal with the aftermath. They had to keep living, coping in whatever way they saw fit. Nicole left once the group walked to the house and went back to where she’d set the unconscious soul. She lifted Oliver and moved him to the woods so he wouldn’t have the chance to see his relative’s house taped off. There was nothing she could do until he woke up, but she wanted to be there when he did. Having to learn all of this for yourself was… traumatic to say the least. At least he wouldn’t have to see the body. Maybe she could stick with him. That all depended on the type of person he turned out to be, and how strong she came on. Nicole nestled down in the roots of a tree and waited. 

He really liked to sleep, this one. Not that she had anything to do, but it wasn’t much fun sitting there and watching a guy sleep for five days. Then again, she wasn’t even really sure if she wanted him to wake up. Talking to people was something she tried to avoid when she could. Telling the cashier at the grocery store that she was paying in cash was fine, but just being social was hard. There wasn’t a really deep reason, she just didn’t like having to tell people about her life. The pity in people’s eyes when she told them anything was nothing less than irritating. Nicole hoped this guy wasn’t like that. 

Nicole saw  _ him _ for the first time about three days after the incident. The area had been returned to normal; everything had been collected and taken to be investigated. She didn’t exactly know he’d done anything at that moment, but he gave off this aura. His gaze never stayed in one spot too long nor did he seem to want to stand still- opting instead to shift and sway on his feet. She didn’t like the look of him. 

He walked around the lake, eventually leaving. Nicole didn’t think much of it until Oliver woke up. They talked; she was brought to his house and learned more about the guy she’d seen at the lake. Her first impression of him turned out to be right; he was a shady person. And he just so happened to be here at the house now. 

Someone tapped her shoulder and she jumped, spinning on her heels. 

“You were thinking pretty hard there, Nicky.” It was just Oliver. Of course. 

“Sorry.” She crossed her arms. “I was just watching your friend there.” Nicole floated up behind Finn, glaring him down. “I remembered seeing him by the lake while you were sleeping.” 

Oliver raised a brow. “After everyone was gone or..?”

“Yeah, after everyone was gone. It had been a couple days.” 

He squinted at Finn. “Mhm… can we talk in another room? Just so he doesn’t hear me.” 

Nicole turned to him. “Okay?” She gestured for him to lead the way. He brought her down the hallway and went into one of the rooms. The walls were a rich shade of blue with a swirling crownlike pattern. Parts bleached out by years of sun hitting the paper, leaving only the ghost of the pattern. A singular twin bed was tucked in the corner; stuffed animals placed neatly on the top. Everything had a thin layer of dust. 

Oliver was still for a moment before turning to her. “Can we possess people?” 

“What?” Nicole was taken aback by the very sudden ask. In hindsight, it made a bit of sense, he’d want to know more about being a ghost since living people had drawn up such a specific image of what ghosts could do. “I- yes we can. But why are you asking now?” 

“Because I need Finn to tell someone what he did.” Oliver huffed. “And he isn’t going to do it himself.” 

Nicole’s gaze softened. “Oh, Oliver.” She sighed. “Possession is hard, not to mention dangerous.” She crossed her legs under her. “You could get stuck, or Finn could get thrown out. It’s even hard for you to get in there.” Nicole looked back. “Plus once you get in, he will fight you for control.” 

Oliver whined. “Nicky please.” He clasped one of her hands in both of his. Nicole had to fight the urge to pull her hand back; she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll try and teach you. But I’m not good at it either.” 

Oliver beamed. “Thank you so much! Let’s get started.”


	9. Got to have a plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! School has started again so I actually have some sort of motivation again. 
> 
> In this chapter, Finn keeps thinking about the fact he killed another child. Most of Finn's chapters are probably going to just be that because he's kinda... busy with that. It ain't gonna go away any time soon.

Finn sat there, lost in thought. He’d heard Oliver talking, and from that he gathered that there was someone else there. Or Oli was just trying to make him go crazy faster. Either way, it wasn’t good. He needed to find some way to stop him. Finn pushed himself off the couch. This was a delusion, of course, but he couldn’t seem to will him away. Perhaps if he played along, then he could make him leave. Just pretend he was a real ghost; that sentence alone made him cringe. Ghosts were about as real as water proof water. But, he still had to figure out how to get rid of a ‘real’ ghost. 

Looking things up online would end up with a lot of different results, he knew this. Sure, no one would get suspicious if they found it in his search history, but he still wanted to keep most of his stuff untraceable. The town didn’t have a huge library, but it still had one. Finn could also just go there after school as long as he told his mom where he was going. There wasn’t much difference between what he could get from a book and what he could find online- crazy people rambling would always be crazy people rambling- it just felt better to use books. It all came from the same sort of tradition anyway. 

Finn jumped as Cheese pawed at his shoestrings. He almost glared. But it was a cat, it would do what it wanted regardless of what he had to say. Maybe he could skip school tomorrow, tell his mother he was grieving. She would buy it. Speak of the devil. His mother walked over and leaned over the top of the couch.    
“The Mortons have offered to give us dinner. Would you like to stay?” She looked from the cat to him. 

Finn tossed this around in his head. Stay here with Oliver longer just to appease his mother, or he could go back home and have the same boring dinner and dingy atmosphere that had plagued the residence since his ‘friend’ died. 

His mother noticed the hesitation. “We can leave immediately afterwards.” She leaned over. “But I think it would be beneficial to us both.” 

And so they ended up staying for an additional hour and a half. The thing that freaked him out the most was the absence of a certain ‘ghost’. Oliver was just trying to get at him. He had to be. Finn popped his knuckles as he sat there in the car. He could figure this out. 

But what if he couldn’t? 

That was the question that haunted him, much the same way this Oliver phantom did. What if they started to get on his case and he couldn’t throw them off? He needed to have a plan. 

He’d think of something. He had to.


	10. The set up to an idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Nicole chat about mental illness and I wonder if it’s too on the nose but remember it’s a book and not everything has to be deep

Possession was about as hard as Nicole had said it would be. They’d figured out they could possess anything as long as it could move. They found some mannequins to work with at a nearby mall. Oliver figured out pretty quickly that it was best to slide in and wait for a time before trying to move. It gave him time to get used to the limbs before he tried to take control. Not to say that it was super easy then; one limb felt like it weighed a ton.

Oliver leaned back in the air after exiting the mannequin. “Holy jeez, it feels like I’ve been pushing a train all day.” He laid back on one of the weathered benches and closed his eyes. Nicole sat criss cross on top of the bench. 

“I know it isn’t easy, but I think you’re getting better at it.” She toyed with a bit of her hair. “Then again, I’m not an expert so I don’t know how to tell.” Nicole watched him, then tilted her head. “Why are you so attached to Finn? He is a horrible person from what I’ve seen.” 

Oliver opened his eyes slowly, not really focusing on Nicole. “I… I guess because I thought maybe I could understand him. Everyone avoided him, and I figured maybe I should try and be there. Everyone needs someone. That’s what Ma always told me.” He finally focused on Nicole. “And I figured he just had some sort of mental thing going on. Didn’t mean he was a bad person.”

The silence that followed bore into Oliver’s soul. Nicole was looking at him like he either said the dumbest thing she’d ever heard, or he’d just said something wrong in general. It made his insides squirm. 

“Oliver, those two things aren’t exclusive. That’s not how mental illness works” Nicole rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And people like that are never going to feel bad or change because they don’t want to.” She moved down to the bench, forcing Oliver to sit up and pull his legs closer. If he squinted, he could see the gears really turning in her head.

“Every mental illness is different, but for the most part they still know the difference between right and wrong. Even then, some conditions affect your perception of things and it can just-” She shook her head. “I’m rambling, that’s besides the point right now. What I’m trying to say is that Finn won’t feel bad for what he did  _ because _ of his mental illness, and he probably can’t form connections to people because of it either. But that doesn’t let him off the hook because he still killed you out of anger. He was fully aware of his actions. And still, even if he felt bad, that doesn’t let him off the hook. He did it in anger and no amount of remorse can make up for the fact that he  _ ended your life _ .” 

Oliver stared over at the fountain as it gurgled water. He felt a breeze blow through his body. Part of him still tried to tug away from whatever feeling this was and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But it wasn’t. He was dead now. It wouldn’t be okay for a long while. He’d been trying to make excuses for a murderer,  _ his  _ murderer. Oliver hugged his knees. 

Nicole awkwardly placed a hand on his forearm. “Uh. I.. it seems my words have… troubled you. That was not my intention.” 

Laughter bubbled from his throat. “Nicole, it’s okay. You just got me to think. That’s all.” Oliver looked down to her hand for a moment before up to her. “How about we take the rest of the day off, hm?” He stood up. Nicole nodded, removing her hand from his arm and floating to a standing position. 

It had been a lot easier figuring out how to knock things over. So when they got to the food court, they ran up and down the aisles, slapping drinks into people’s laps. Oliver even managed to knock a tray on a guy. He didn’t know who he was, but right now it didn’t really matter. He was just having fun now. 


	11. Closing in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn is in a bit of a pickle. That’s. That’s the whole chapter

Finn had to keep himself from glaring up at the man in front of him. He was back down in the police station for questioning. They’d brought him back to a poorly lit grey cinderblock room with peeling paint. Now, here he was, at a cold steel table with a hazy eyed detective who hadn’t had enough coffee this morning and his mom waiting in the lobby. That smug bastard, sitting there shuffling his papers; he had to have known, why else would he be here? They knew he’d done something. Then again, his story hadn’t been exactly thought out when he’d blurted it out on the day of. He needed to be careful now. Make sure he kept his story tight. 

The cop- Detective Andrew Garson- peered over his glasses at him. “Now, young man. I want you to understand that this ain’t some kind of interrogation. I’m just askin some routine follow-up questions. You do not have to answer if you do not want to.” 

Finn nodded a little, hunkering down in the chair a bit more. He was being questioned. He wasn’t just a witness anymore. The scratches on his wrist itched and burned against his skin, whispering to him. Guilty, they know you’re guilty, you’re suspicious, _they know you’re_ _suspicious, you’re dead,_ ** _dead, you weren’t going to walk out of here_**. 

Detective Garson flipped open the notebook to a new page. “If these questions are too distressing, feel free to let me know.” He wasn’t too gentle about his tone though. Like poison at the tip of a blade, it sunk into Finn’s brain and began to spread around. He was baiting him. He was trying to get him to crack but oh he wouldn’t. He wasn’t some stupid common criminal who would blabber about everything the moment it started to look a little tough. Too bad he didn’t know jack shit about forensics, or maybe he would have known that holding Oliver down like that would have caused bruising. 

“So, in your initial statement, you said that Oliver dipped down under the water. Do you have any idea why he would do that?” 

Finn gripped onto the edges of the seat. He had said that, hadn’t he? And he’d said Oliver did it to scare him. Damn, this put him in a tight spot; good thing it couldn’t get any worse though. 

“Well, why would I?”

Spoke too soon. 

Oliver was hovering just a few inches away from him. His eyes were glinting mischievously as he toyed with a translucent lock of brunette hair. “Why would I just dip under the water, Finn?”

The colour drained from Finn’s face, his palms clammed up as explanations flew from his brain as fast as he could think them up. He leaned forward against the table. Maybe, if he told the truth… 

“We… had an argument.” Finn dug his nails into his sleeve. He just needed to get through this. 

The detective scribbled down on the notepad, each scratch spiking his anxiety. “What did you two argue about?” 

Oliver rolled over in the air above him. He was smiling; that couldn’t be good. A chill settled over the room. Coupled with the icy gaze of the detective, he almost felt frozen. Argument. Something both of them would disagree on. “We were… talking about what we were going to do after school. I said I wanted to be a mortician, or maybe something with animals. He said that was dumb and scary and I said no it wasn’t, you have no plan which is even stupider. And then he dipped down under the water.” 

The detective scribbled all this down as fast as he could. “Mhm, mhm.” He wrote down everything he’d said, underlined something, then leaned forward. “So you just… let him go down? Didn’t check on him or nothing?” Finn swallowed. His palms were starting to stick to the arms of the metal chair. Why did he have to be so sweaty? 

“No, sir. I couldn’t see him, and I… don’t know how to swim.” 

Oliver snickered behind him. “Oh god, really?” He tutted. “Ain’t that a shame.”

Colour spread back over Finn’s cheeks. How dare he? How dare Oliver laugh at him. This was all his fault to begin with, he had no right. No right whatsoever. If only he could yell at him right now. Oliver would stay dead this time. Everything was starting to itch at his brain now; the pencil tap of the detective, the dripping water from the leaky pipe over his head, the muffled buzz of talking out in the hall. And the laughter. Someone in the hall was laughing. At him. They had to be, who else would they be laughing at. 

“Now, we’re gonna have to ask your mom ‘fore we do anything, but would you be okay with us gettin a cheek swab?” 

Finn had to use all his willpower to not jolt in his seat. Dna. They did suspect him, they had to. But, how would it look for him to say no? That’s what a guilty person does. Then again, he was a child legally so maybe he could just say he didn’t know what it was so he didn’t want to give it. But what if they found out that was a lie? No, no they wouldn’t- they had no way to prove it! He got an idea. “Why would you… need to take a cheek swab? What’s it for?” 

The detective raised a brow; the tapping of his pencil stopped. “It’s for DNA, you know. It identifies you? Never.. Never heard of it?” He muttered something under his breath. “Alright, will you let us swab or not?” 

Damn. Finn dug his nails into his arm again. “If mom says yes.”


	12. Possession is hard, don’t get stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver doesn’t have a thought in his entire head someone help him

Oliver stared down at Finn. This was the perfect chance to test his skills; he just had to wait for the right moment. There had to be some point where he could make him slip up or blurt it out in a way he couldn’t recover from. If only he’d practiced on living beings; he wouldn’t feel so nervous. Was it even possible for ghosts to sweat? It sure felt like it. Oliver sat down in the detective’s chair once he left. “You’re doing better than I’d thought.”

Finn would glare him to death if he was able. He didn’t respond though, instead choosing to tap his fingers on the frigid metal table. Oliver got the message though. Why was he here, what did he think he was doing, things like that. 

“I figured I might as well see what you were doing. Mom and Dad are still trying to go about life normally and all that.” He looked around. “You seem to have gotten yourself in a spot of trouble though, eh?” Oliver laughed and stretched himself out a little. “But you can’t talk back to me now, can yah? Nope! Cause then you’d be craaaaazy~”

He could tell he was getting to Finn because he stopped tapping and was now gripping onto the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white. His amber eyes cut into him with years of rage. Oliver didn’t know if that would make it easier or harder for him to wiggle his way into him. Probably harder, if he were to take a gamble. 

Oliver began to look around the room. He wasn’t sure if there were people out in the hall that could hear, but he knew something that would be listening if he didn’t do anything about it. He drifted up to the security camera bolted to the ceiling and smacked it a couple times to get a feel before shoving his hands into it. The red light near the lense died out. “There, that should give you a couple minutes. But, you should probably listen to make sure that man ain’t coming back either.” 

Finn let out a sharp breathy laugh. “Oh! Oh great!” He wasn’t yelling yet, but if he pushed a bit harder, he might. “Now I get to  _ talk  _ to you, just what I’ve always  _ dreamed. _ ” He pushed his ginger hair from his eyes and stared up at him. “You could be anywhere in the world right now, but you are  _ here. _ ” 

“Well, gee. If I knew you didn’t want to see me, I wouldn’t have come.” 

“But wouldn’t you?” 

Oliver tilted his head, and some of his body, to the side. “...Eh. You got me there.” He came back down to hover over him and try to bore into his soul. Finn actually seemed to give pause at this.

“Wh…. what are you doing?” He narrowed his eyes. 

There was no response, leaving a note of static confusion to linger in the air for a few seconds. 

Oliver cleared his throat. “I’m staring at you. Is there a problem?” He began to arhythmically tap on the metal table, even though his fingers made no sound against the metal. 

The silence came rushing back into the room. This had gone a lot differently in his head. More yelling, more words in general. Oliver had expected Finn to be more volatile, but it seemed like Finn was onto him. 

“Oliver, are you trying to be intimidating?” A smile tugged its way onto Finn’s face. He bit down onto the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting. “Oh no, you are aren’t you?” Finn crinkled his nose a little from the effort to not bust out laughing. 

“I- no, no I’m not. I’m just… starin. And thinkin.” Oliver curled his toes, and looked away. “Not tryin anything.” He would have to try something else then. 

The door behind Oliver squealed open and detective Garson strode back in with a cotton swab and a tube. “Well, she said yes. Do you still want to do it?” 

The colour drained from Finn’s face again, and the smile fell. He nodded once. “Yes.” It sounded like he was gritting his teeth. Garson sauntered around the table while pulling the swab out of the container. “Okay, open up.” 

Oliver saw his chance. He zoomed over and shoved himself into Finn. It was much different than the mannequins. Things were constantly moving and sloshing and swishing; Oliver hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten what a heartbeat felt like. The muscles tensed on their own while he wrangled against Finn’s shocked conscience. It was a… familiar experience. The burning, the gasping, the struggling, all of it was familiar, and it didn’t make the fight any easier. 

Both of them were pulled out of it by Garson gripping their shoulder. “Kid? Kid, what’s going on?” The detective had lost his indifferent look, and was now sharp with worry. Finn roughly took control, but managed to block Oliver in for the time being.

“I… am. I think… I don’t feel well.”

“Do you have a history of seizures? My little sis gets em, so I have a vague idea of what they look like.” Garson snagged the chair from the other side of the table so he could sit in front of him. Oliver felt Finn shake his head as panic bubbled against their chest. It was hard to tell whose panic it was, but they could both feel it. 

The detective watched closely, hands draped in front of him. “Okay uh. Do you want your mom to come in, or do you want some time to calm down?” 

“Just a few minutes alone. That’s all I need.” 

The detective nodded and stood, stepping outside.

Oliver was practically screaming by the time the door shut. “Let me out!” His voice rang silent through the body. He didn’t get a response as they just sat there, staring at the ceiling. “Please, Finny. You can’t keep me trap-”

“Then do something about it, Mr. Blue eyes.” 

That was enough to shock Oliver into silence. Blue eyes? Should he do something? Like what? Also  _ blue eyes??? _ How do you respond to that? You can’t. That’s the only answer. All he could do was try and escape again. 


	13. Remorse? Fuck that shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn dips his chips in some spicy madness and his mom kinda sucks but is also kinda good? Also yes, I intentionally made all his chapters have a pretentious tone. That’s kinda this mans character.

Finn took some deep breaths to try and steady his nerves. His heart was pounding from a very intense and violent fear. Thank everything that exists that it had only been an internal struggle. He was still safe, but he could feel Oliver squirming against his brain. Why did he think that was a good idea? Not that Finn had been ready for it, but once he caught on it was easy to suppress. Surprisingly. Both of them could feel the tightness clinging to his chest.  
That chilling numb feeling began to slip from his heart, but he clung to it as tightly as he could. Oliver wasn’t allowed out until they left the building. Finn smoothed down his hair, took a few deep breaths then made his way to the door. “I’m better now, Detective Garson. You can take the swab now.”   
The bumbling detective poked his head back in. “You sure, sport?” He took the swab out after FInn definitively nodded. It only took a few seconds to take it, before he was sent back out to his mother, who promptly brought him back home. Oliver clawed his way out of Finn’s body only to end up riding in the back seat the rest of the way.   
There was a girl back there too.  
By the time they got back, it was already dark outside. His mother’s grip on the wheel was loose and clammy. Finn could feel her looking at him every few minutes, probably waiting for him to strike up conversation. He refused.  
The house was dark and gloomy when they got back. The shutters were drawn closed while the porch light flickered with no set pattern, illuminating the multiple corpses of the moths crammed into the covering. Crickets and cicadas chirped their song happily into the night, despite the dire atmosphere surrounding them.   
His mother shoved the car into park and sighed, attempting to brush her messy curls back. She took less care of herself with each day that passed. Finn wouldn’t doubt that she suspected him too by now.   
“Finn.” Her voice disturbed him from his thoughts. He was more annoyed at this than he should have been. “I’ve been thinking. You should probably get some therapy.” She looked back over to him. It seemed to drag the bags under her eyes deeper. For a moment, there seemed to be some kind of understanding between the two. Each knew what the other was thinking; they knew the outcome of the path before them if nothing was done. Destruction.   
He chose destruction. “I don’t need therapy mom.”   
“Finn, I just want to make su-”  
“You don’t need to make sure of anything! I’m fine!”   
His mother’s face fell. An unspoken agreement had just been made. Where he led them, she would follow. Finn hoped so, anyway. He turned to the door.  
“Finn. I need you to be honest with me. Did you…”  
“Mom, I’m not going to have this conversation.” He hunched his shoulders. “And I’m not going to therapy. You can’t fix something with missing pieces.”  
His mother wasn’t looking at him, and she didn’t respond. Finn got out of the car. The two transparent silhouettes in the back of the car got up and moved with him. It bugged him that he couldn’t do anything about it. His hallucinations were getting worse; he didn’t even know who that girl was. Finn pushed through the door and trekked to his room. The ghosts followed. Finn shut the door as hard as he could. The ghosts moved through it. He sat down at the desk in his room. The small digital alarm clock read 8:15 The ghosts came up behind him. They were staring, boring into his soul, judging, watching, laughing. Hands clamped around his throat; they were trying to shove him underwater, they were trying to get back at him-   
“Finn?”   
There was no one in the room, but there was a shadow under the door. “Are you awake? Dinner’s ready.”   
“Okay.” He croaked. The clock read 9:45. When had those 90 minutes passed? Finn pushed himself back from the desk. He just had to get through dinner.


	14. Found family troupe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two small dead kids say you know, we could just go on with our deaths but no. We are bastards and we are in this together

Oliver sat with Nicole in the back of the car. He was curled up against her side, holding onto himself. “You did your best.” She murmured, trying her best to soothe him. “We just need to try again.” Nicole had spotted Finn staring at her before he’d gone into the house. She figured he’d just been looking at Oliver. Nicole sighed as she looked down. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well. Think we can try again tomorrow?” 

“It’s not worth it, Nic. I don’t think I’ll get him to confess.” He stared out the window, watching the moon peeking through the trees. “If I am able to get him to say something, it won’t be a good confession. I’ll probably only get out one word and then he’ll shove me back.” Oliver focused on her. “That isn’t nearly enough for a confession, and he’s probably going to be expecting it more now. He could trap me there if I try again.” 

Nicole chewed on those words for a long moment, delicately moving her slender fingers through Oliver’s tangled hair. She tried to see if she could spy the strange boy through the windows of the house. “Well, that just means we have to change strategy. You don’t have to only talk to him when he’s alone. And you don’t even have to be the one to make him confess.”

Oliver squinted, sitting up a bit more and turning towards her. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’d like it if someone followed me around and talked all the time.” A mischievous grin spread over her face, probably one of the few outwardly noticeable emotions she would show. “And, if you distract him, I might be able to slide my way in and get him to talk. He might be strong, but so am I.”

There was a silence that followed that she wasn’t expecting. Panic flared in her chest; she’d said something wrong, hadn’t she? Then Oliver began to laugh. “I didn’t think you could be so conniving, Nicky! Even if you think I’m not strong.” 

She flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t- that wasn’t what-”

“It’s okay. I know I ain’t that strong. At least not as strong as you ‘n Finn.” He dug his fingers into his hair and pushed it back. “You do remind me of him a lil. Not all the way, but you have times where you’re like him.” The grip he had on himself had loosened quite a bit. “You’re both real quiet, and you ain’t outward with your emotions like other people.” Oliver closed his eyes, the relaxed candor back in his tone and expression. Nicole figured he didn’t say that as an insult, since Finn was in fact a murderer, so she didn’t say anything. She looked back to the building. 

“I would like to think that I care about more than myself. Unlike him.” She pressed her fingers through a hole ripped into the leather of the back seat. “But thanks. I guess.” A wry smile showed itself on her face. 

Oliver went red. “Oh- no I meant-” 

Nicole laughed. It wasn’t huge or anything, just a small bubble of emotion, but she hadn’t done that in a while. It felt nice. “You get flustered pretty easily. I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. Some people are just quiet like that.” She turned her head back to Oliver, who watched her curiously. “Although, not all of those people are the same, you know. I’ve never killed anyone, and I don’t plan on it either.”

He nodded and leaned back into her. “Yeah, I still ain’t used to it. It is kind of an insult, ain’t it? Comparin you to a murderer.” Oliver shook his head. “It’s silly.” The two sat in silence for a moment or two before he looked up. “Where you from? You don’t sound like you’re from here.”

Nicole chuckled. She was surprised it had taken him this long to ask. During their initial conversation, he’d only talked about rudimentary things. Stuff that had very little to do with her. He’d been scared to get personal, and while she was thankful he’d been polite, she didn’t want him to be scared. “I grew up around California. When I was eight, my dad got a job over here, so we moved all the way down here.” 

“And how old are you? Not counting after you died.”

“13 and a half. My birthday was in… four months. I think.” 

“And including after you died?”

“17. But that doesn’t really mean anything. Everything about me will remain at 13 years old.” Nicole shrugged. “Not that I mind, being an adult sounds stressful.” 

Oliver chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Well, either way, that would make you like a big sister to me. I’m only 12 but,” He counted on his fingers, “I would be thirteen in maaaaybe seven months?” 

Nicole hadn’t really heard that part, completely caught off guard by the first sentence. Big, sister… something about that made her insides twist, but not in a bad way. Her only family had been her dad, and she hadn’t been able to make friends over here before her death. Now, here sat this ruffled little man who’d known her only a week, the same amount of time he’d been dead, and he’d so casually called her his  _ sister _ . It was something that completely baffled her, but she wasn’t about to start making complaints. 

A light tap on her arm brought her back. “Nicky? You there?” 

She flushed. “Yeah- yeah, sorry.” She really couldn’t start spacing out around him; he’d think she was weird. “You caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Oh- was that too pushy? I’ve always wanted an older sibling, and I thought-”

“No, you’re absolutely fine, Oliver.” She smiled. “I’m okay with it.” Nicole looked to the house. “Now, let’s go see what the thing is up to.” 


	15. Gay cops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What, do you need more than that?   
> It’s gay cops in 2003

Detective Garson slouched as he drove back. The notepad he’d used in the interview bounced in the side beside him, hurried notes scrawled across the open page. The sound of it flapping broke through his thoughts, not that it even changed much. They were all tangled together in a mess of half conclusions and theories. He pulled into a parking lot and shut off the car, slumping back against the chair and pressing his hands to his eyes. The forensics weren’t back yet, so no solid conclusions would be made just yet; at least none that could be proven in a court of law. 

Detective Garson, real name Andrew, was at a loss. That kid, it couldn’t have been an accident.. Could it? He brought his hands back down and grabbed his notepad. He could work on this later. He opened the door and stepped out into the crisp night air. A streetlamp near him lit the ground with a dusty glow, moths fluttering around the bulb. The apartment complex wasn’t new by any means, but it was still in pretty decent condition. Andrew walked through the desolate parking lot, packed full of cars, and shuffled up a flight of stairs. 

The door opened to a familiar and homey room. Light blue walls welcomed him, and a flower of lights were hanging over a plush armchair positioned in front of the tv. Some sort of show about relationships was playing, Jerry Springer or something. In the kitchen a covered pot was on top of a low burner, and a bowl was placed beside it. It was a slightly grimy feeling room, but it was as clean as it could be. The smell of chili filled the room. Andrew smiled tiredly as he moved in. “Thank you, Keith.” 

A hand poked up from the chair. “S’no problem. I know you work late.” 

Keith was Andrew’s… ‘roommate’. He was, technically; he helped pay the bills, but that was a pretty reductive description of what he did. Keith was a short black man with a heavier build and a silky voice. He had the deepest brown eyes, and short, near scalp hair. Despite the uncaring outer appearance- he rarely wore pants around the house- he worked his ass off as a programmer, helping the police department with their faulty computers. And Andrew loved him to the edges of the universe and back. They’d met on the job, as a matter of fact. He was pretty sure some of the force was onto them, and both of them were pretty terrified of getting found out. Not just because they were both men, but because they weren’t the same race.

Andrew filled the bowl and slunk over. “Up.” He gestured. 

Keith raised a brow. “And what’re you going to do to get me to move, copper?” A coy smile played across his face. 

“I’m a detective, K, not a beat cop.” He was smiling though. Keith laughed and got up, letting Andrew sit before landing himself in his lap. 

Andrew didn’t mind; Keith was warm. He quickly swallowed down about half a bowl of chili before he spoke again. “You fix the computer at the front desk yet?” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s something with the computer itself, not the operating system. And that part isn’t my job.” He had busied himself with buttoning and unbuttoning one part of Andrew’s shirt. “I was also told that one of the cameras went down for a moment today, but since it was only one I couldn’t do much. It was already working again anyway. Probably just some bunk technology; how old are those cameras?” 

“They’ve been the same ones for as long as I’ve worked on the force.” He set his bowl on the table beside the chair, looking up to the tv. The father of the child was crying. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it cut out. Which one was it?” 

“Interview room 2.” 

A cold chill ran down his spine. That was the room he’d questioned that kid in. “What time did it cut out?” 

Keith raised a brow at him, having noticed the odd expression. “.. ‘round 1, why?” 

“That was the same time I was talking to that kid.” He looked down to Keith. “You know, the one from the drowning a couple days ago?” 

Keith turned his attention fully to him. “How’s that case going anyway?” He knew how this job was; always bringing things home and lying awake at night. Andrew stared off. He always shared the details with Keith even if he wasn’t supposed to. Keith never told anyone as far as he knew, and he was grateful. 

“It wasn’t an accident. When we pulled the body out, it looked like a routine drowning but.. Something bugged me about it, and the kid’s story just doesn’t add up.” Andrew pushed his spoon into the mush of cooling chili. “The victim’s uncle said he swam a lot, but the kid that was on the scene said he just swam under the water and didn’t come back up.” He glanced at the notepad he’d left on the table. “There’s nothing we can really prove until the lab results come back. Some stuff was found under the victim’s fingernails, and it was sent off for testing.”

“I take it proving it wasn’t an accident would take more than pointing out a child’s flimsy story?”

“Mhm. I also noticed in the interview that he had some bandages around his wrist. So I asked for a dna swab.” 

Keith listened patiently before getting up to turn the burner off. It didn’t look like they’d be eating at the current moment. He let Andrew bring his bowl up. “And what’s your read on this kid, anyway?” 

“I ain’t someone who knows a lot about complexes, but that kid definitely has a superiority complex, or something close to it. He’s very smug. But he’s also very paranoid. He kept looking around the room, and he was very sweaty.” Andrew washed out the bowl, drying his hands. He walked over to the table, then flipped open the notebook. “I asked what they argued about. You wanna hear what he said?” 

“Oh god, was it something completely dumb like… like, who had the better shoes?”

He raised a brow quizzically, but shook his head. “He said they were talking about what they wanted to be, jobwise. Apparently, the victim thought being a mortician was scary, then Finn- that’s the other kid’s name- told him having no plan was stupid. Then he dipped under and died.” He leaned his arm against the table. “...Have you ever argued over shoes?”

“I- no.” Keith thought over that. “...that doesn’t make any sense though. I mean, I don’t know if they’d disagree or not, but why dip under the water?” He leaned back on his heels. “If I were arguing with a friend, and he called me stupid, I would splash him.” Keith chewed on his lip, squinting into the pot of chili.”Then again, they’re kids. Maybe that logic made sense to your victim.” 

“That’s true but..” Andrew flipped through the pages, scanning the various scribbles and notes. Something was missing. It was right here in the pages, somewhere between the lines, but he just needed to figure it out. “..there has to be something we’re overlooking. I know he did something, and I need to be able to prove it.” He sat down at the table. He really needed a cork board for this sort of thing. 

Keith walked up and leaned over, scanning the pages with him. “What’s the motive? If it wasn’t an accident like you said.” 

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. It had to have been something in their conversation because this doesn’t feel premeditated.” He glanced over to him. “If it wasn’t an accident.” This was that little song and dance he had to do since it wasn’t officially a homicide case, simply an accidental death under suspicious circumstances. He bounced his leg under the table, lazily flipping through the pages again to see if he could spot something. “There ain’t much hope of anything happening unless the kid confesses somethin. People don’t really like convicting a child, especially if he puts on a good show. Most likely will end in a hung jury.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sometimes jurors could be stupid, but in this case he kind of understood where this hypothetical jury was coming from. 

“If it wasn’t an accident. Now, that’s enough thinking about that.” This, and a prod to his side dragged him out of his thoughts. He glanced sidelong at Keith who was standing there with one hand on his hip. “We both need some sleep, and this isn’t gon help. Come on.” 

Andrew opened his mouth to argue, but it was true. He was exhausted. So he relented; resigning himself to being pulled to their shared bedroom. The rest of his worries were pulled back from his mind along the way, until he was left to only care about the feeling of Keith’s warm body pressed against his in blissful unconsciousness. Andrew pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before settling back against a pillow and attempting to quiet his brain down enough to pass out.


End file.
